A Narvikian Tale

[arya126]

I am Sven Narvik. A Narvikian. This is the tale of my family. We are an offshoot of the Royal Family in Oslo, which rules over all of Norway.

The date is the year of our lord, 1066. February 16th. We, the Narvikians, are an offshoot of the Royal Family in Oslo, which rules over all of Norway. My father is the Baron of Narvik, which basically means he rules over anything including and north of the coastal town Narvik in northern Norway. He is just past his fortieth year in this world, and I just reached manhood a year ago. Here in Norway, manhood is 17.

We Norwegians are not a peaceful people. Nor are we content to sit with the lot handed to us. We fight for what we have, we take what we want, and we come into conflict with each other. We fight each other just as often as we raid foreigners. We prefer the sword to the axe. All of this will likely be foreign to whomever reads this, because once you do, us Norwegians will likely have wiped ourselves out.

Norway sits atop the world today, geographically at least. We have neither the largest army nor the largest navy, nor the richest cities. What we have is courage and heart, what we have is the blood of the Narvikians!

The Narvikians do not rule Norway-that lot falls to the Ynglings, the elder branch of the family. Between our two families, because over the centuries most recent to us we have essentially split into 2 different families, we have caused the majority of the strife in Norway. Our conflict reaches beyond drunken bar brawls, into the realm of thousands of men raised from farms to slaughter each other. The last civil war was 59 years ago. I pray there not be another one. That prayer probably won't be answered.

War looms on the horizon. Now let us go and meet it should it not run away in fright! Are we not Narvikians?


-----

Hello and welcome! This is something new that I am going to try. What I'm calling it is an Interactive Story, and since its not based on Civ, nor on any other game, I figured Forum Games was the best place to put it!

What an Interactive Story, as I see it is going to be, is that the Writer (me) will write up the stories. After each story, the readers (you) will comment and criticize both on my writing and on the plot, or whatever you want. But theres a catch. The readers will also give 'orders' to both the main character (above) and to the nation that will be the centerpiece of this 'IS' (Norway). The orders to the main character is limited to 2 things you want him to do/try/attempt. Whether it be raid his fathers treasury, sign up for the crew of a viking raiding vessel, or march into the Royal Palace in Oslo and declare himself king, it is up to you. However, only ONE of those 2 orders that you give the main character can be something 'major', that is something along the lines of what you just described. Something 'small' could be flirt with a random girl, or enter a bar. And remember, keep them vague for the most part.

The orders for the nation are limited to 1 thing at the same time as your orders for the main character. It can range form declaring war on England, to an expansion of the navy, to naming a new heir to the throne. The catch with this is that only 1 of the orders for the nation shall be selected to be implemented by way of an RNG.

Also try to keep your orders semi-reasonable. The goal of this is to have fun just like every other game, but no Unicorns unless introduced by me, no declarations of war on Japan until you meet them, and keep in mind its 1066. And now, for an example of orders:

Attempt to get the local nobles to agree to higher taxes.
Court the daughter of one of the more important nobles.

Have Norway construct a new fleet of longships to increase the number of Viking Raids.


You will notice how Navy indicates the Major order for the main character, and the lighter blue is for the minor order. The red order is for the Kingdom.

If you have any questions, ask them! For the most part the world is as historically it was in 1066, although obviously I have taken some liberties with the history of Norway in order to introduce the Narvikians, whose line will be the main characters of this saga. I hope to continue this for a while, but who knows. Maybe it won't catch on, maybe i will lose interest, or maybe that evil real life will interfere!

Also please note that the Ynglings and the location of Norway as well as some other parts of the plot have been inspired by the following AAR on Paradox that is actually a 900 year long MP marathon. King of Men however takes it to a whole other level with his Yngling saga mixed in. http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/showthread.php?334184-There-Will-Be-War-In-The-Balance

 

[Omega124]

Go to a bar
Find potentional recruits for a personal fighting force

Improve diplomatic relations with Denmark

 

[bonefang]

Have some alcoholic brew.

Talk to the local warlords and offer them your "protection" in exchange for money

Acquire better weapons and war gear for the troops

 

[arya126]

The town of Narvik consisted of a small castle set against a large hill that was sometimes called a small mountain, a few dozen homes outside the wooden wall surrounding the castle, and a small harbor. The harbor usually dealt with fishing and supplies, some official and some not. There was also a pair of competing bars at opposite ends of the town, and a small Royal Outpost that dealt with matters of the crown such as taxes, recruitment into the small standing army and navy of the crown, and to maintain communications with the Baron of Narvik, Sven's father.

Sven walked down the snow covered road from the outer wooden wall into the town. His stride was long and steady, and he covered the distance in no time at all. Although he was supposed to wear the livery of the Narvikians when out on official business, he did not consider his objective today official business. Instead, he wore a heavy fur coat made from the pelt of a wolf he had killed some months ago on a hunt. His pants hung heavy on his legs because of the padding for warmth, and his bow bounced awkwardly on his back with his quiver. No sword, since it would have given him away instantly. Only a pair of knives hidden on the inside of his fur coat.

As he passed the ring of homes closest to the castle he pulled his hood a little tighter to protect him from the snow the wind was blowing around with a vengeance. However, had he not had the hood up, and had some mad man been in the streets that day, he would have seen a man with dark hair, and a well trimmed beard that covered his face but was considered short by Norwegian standards. A small goatee was also forming but it was negligible.

Father will know me as a man today! The only thought that warmed him up. He was headed to a bar on the north side of the town, the shadier side if he had to admit it. The bar's name was A Battle Brew although it was notorious for some of the best ale in Norway, it was also surrounded by homes of drunken Norwegians, whom were quite a force to be reckoned with.

As short as the walk was, the sun was setting by the time he got to the bar. He opened the door and walked in, to find it already packed and busy. Only a few nearby eyes studied the newcomer. Most were looking to see if he would have any cash they could extort him of. Most decided even if he didn't, that he was wearing a nice jacket.

As he sat down at the bar and was about to order a drink, a knife slammed into the bar, not 2 inches from his hand. He jerked back and everybody in the vicinity laughed uproariously. His face colored at the humiliation naturally.

Sven then took out his own knife and made to replicate what was just done to him, but quickly found himself on the ground, and without a knife. A man who came up from behind was standing over him.

"Watch yourself lad. You might get in over your head around here with those antics." He was a large man, larger than Sven himself who was relatively tall even in this part of Norway where tall was the norm. However, unlike most around here he was also bald and cleanly shaven with a slight tan indicating he had been on a recent raid somewhere sunny.

Sven tried to get up and strike at the man's knees but was swiftly pushed back down by the man who had scared him with a knife.

"Let me up!" Sven roared in the deep voice he had inherited from his father. "Let me fight!"

"Does it look like we fight fair? Are we not YNGLINGS?" The tanned man yelled back at him. He then picked Sven up off the ground and twisted his left arm. However Sven used this opportunity to quickly grab his second knife with his teeth, then swing his right fist around to his the lower ribs of the man holding him. The tanned man grunted and loosened his hold, allowing Sven to rip free his left arm and take hold of his knife, and them slam the hilt of the knife into the head of tanned man. Sven then did a 180 and drove the blade directly into the thigh of the man with the knife, causing him to scream and drop his own knife.

Moving quickly, Sven then grabbed the tan man by the neck and held his knife to his throat while standing behind him, a classic threatening hold.

"Is my blood not Narvikian?" He asked quietly, so that in other circumstances, only the man would be able to hear. But by now the entire bar had frozen to watch the upset fight, and every man there could hear the question clearly.

"Is it not?" He asked louder this time, raising his head to look each of the men around him in the eyes.

He released the man and kicked him in the back to create distance from him. he then turned to the bartender.

"An ale if you please." The bartender hesitated until Sven withdrew a handful of gold coins.

"And an ale for these two folks as well if you don't mind." The bartender didn't mind as those coins were enough to buy everyone there several rounds each.

So much for not being recognized as a Narvikian. And who the hell is this one who calls himself a Yngling? Sven thought as the drinks came rushing forward. He sipped his once then placed it back on the bar for now.

"Now who the hell are you Yngling?" Sven asked.

"Torvald Yngling, uncle to the newly crowned king Olav Yngling, at your service stril*." The tanned man said, getting to his feet. Now Sven could see he was at least three inches taller than himself, and Sven himself was a very solid 6'2.

"And you?" Sven asked, asking the man he had wounded with his knife.

"Jon Hakkson, native of Narvik and member of your father's militia sir." Jon answered, staring defiantly into the man ho was technically his commander now that his identity was obvious to all. There were only 2 known Narvikians after all, and this was obviously not the Baron of Narvik.

"Jon, you are being reassigned to my personal guard, and so is the rest of your squad. Are they here?" Jon nodded. "Good. I hope you can still fight with that leg."

"'Tis but a flesh wound. I will have to teach you how to fight with a knife....milord."

"As for you Torvald....although you be Yngling, we are both Norwegions are we not? I have a job that I believe you would be most useful in aiding me to complete. Maybe you can make a little gold, gain a little land. What do you say?" Sven queried.

"Whats the job?" Torvald asked suspiciously.

"Oh we are just going to pay the Swedish Duke Bjornfell a visit, and conquer northern Sweden for Norway. Get a little prestige, become heroes. Along those lines." Sven answered, slightly sarcastic and with a slight but thin grin.

"Im in. But you are exaggerating aren't you?" Was all Tovald had to say.

-----

Relations with Denmark have been improved.

In other news, bone fang, I am ending this narrative here, but the next narrative will involve them going to the 'warlord' on the mountain Bjornfell as you said in your orders this turn. I just couldn't fit it in. Your welcome to post new orders for this cycle as usual.

Also, just so you know, Jon's squad is him plus 6 others.

*A Stril is a term Ynglings use use for non-Ynglings which basically means the Ynglings are better than others. A Superior race if you will. However, publicly, it is only an insult to ones the Ynglings wish to offend, privately, they think non-ynglings should be slaves to blooded ynglings.

 

[Omega124]

Find infomation about Duke Bjornfell
Go to Sweden (Normally I'd put a movement in minor, but going to a whole new country seems major)

Colonize the realitivly unpopulated region of Kola

 

[Save_Ferris]

Spoiler :

Although for what it's worth, you're a much better writer than I am.

 

[arya126]

Spoiler :

Although for what it's worth, you're a much better writer than I am.

Ha, PM Lighthearter for some excerpts of his writing, then you will have an idea of what I've been comparing my writing to for the past couple of years. Im really not that good, and probably not much better than you when it comes down to it if I'm even better in the first place

If your interested, try sending in some orders then! Get involved!

And now, I'm off to write the update that I promised Omega if he got orders in.......or maybe tomorrow morning will be a better time. Yes.....*yawns*

 

[KaiserElectric]

Pay a visit to the blacksmith.
Travel to Sweden

Fortify the more populated holdings.

(Feel free to ignore if the update's already written, I won't be offended. )

 

[arya126]

Sven was in the lead of the phalanx that was seemingly flying over the snow. Utilizing crude wooden skis, they were making good time over the wilderness of scandinavia, especially for the winter months when a trip would otherwise take months. On either side of Sven in the phalanx of skiers was Jon Hakkson and Torvald Yngling. Further out were the members of Jon's militia squad, six in all, that had been 'reassigned' to Sven's personal guard that he was taking on his trip.

He had told his father it was a hunting trip, which was true enough, just not the whole truth. Every man wore, under his winter furs, a set of armor bearing the blue and silver Narvikian insignia. Every man except Torvald, who wore a set of armor quite different in nothing except the colors and the insignia-it was a red and gold lion, the same that was on the flag of Norway, and was the symbol of Yngling power. Every man was armed with a pair of axes meant for dual wielding, except for Sven and Torvald, whom also wore a sword as a show of their rank and power. Sven also naturally had his knives and a short sword.

They skied until nightfall, and then for a few hours after. It was only their second day, and they should be there sometime in the next day. Bjornfell was only a mere 12 miles from Narvik, but it was 12 miles of some of the most rugged terrain in the world, covered by 6 feet of snow and buffeted by gales.

"Just why is this man so important?" Asked one of the militia, who was obviously young, young enough to not have more than a little stubble as a beard at any rate.

"The Duchy of Bjornfell is an abomination; The Duke of the same name even more so. He marched northwest with a couple thousand warriors in 1056 when most of them men in these parts were off on The German Raids, and Narvik was powerless to stop him. Now rightful nord lands are in the hands of a Swede who swears allegiance to the Swedish king. Once the men got back from the raids, it was deemed not important enough to lose more lives over...at least thats what the Narvikians claim." Snarled Torvald, clearly still bitter about the loss of eastern Nordland.

"So what are we going to do? Kill him?" Asked the same kid. Torvald laughed in that loud obnoxious way that only Norwegian could pull off.

"Kill him? Kill him? You wouldn't get close to him!" Torvald continued to laugh.

"No. We are just going to make him more....agreeable to Norwegian rule." Sven say. And that was all he would say on the matter.

----

In the morning, an hour before the sun rose, they set off again, but they didn't arrive at the base of the mountain until noon, and then it was a further two hours until they reached the limits of the castle. There was no town. The little population that lived on the mountain lived in the castle that was built into the side of the mountain, much like the one at Narvik, only this castle was all stone, built quite recently, and sited on a much larger mountain.

When they approached the gates, a path was made clear where only two or three feet was left accumulated, so the men undid their skis and stashed them in harnesses on their back. Should it come to a fight, they could easily shed their harnesses, which would include their packs and skis, allowing better fighting capability.

Three guards protected the gate even though it was closed. The two in front lowered their spears as they approached, and the man behind them drew a sword in one hand and an axe in the other.

"State your name and business in the castle of Bjornfell!" Growled the one in front and to the left. He was slightly shorter than the others, but seemed to make up for it by being stocky even for scandinavian standards. Sven stepped forward and shed his furs.

"I am Sven Narvikian, son of Jalls Narvikian, and heir to Narvik, here as an envoy from my father to your Duke. This is my guard." Sven said loudly, amplified by his voice and echoed by the valleys all around them. The challenging guard glanced back at the swordsman who seemed to be their leader. The swordsman then took off his helm, which covered his entire head and face, turned towards the wall and shouted to the archers with arrows pointed at the newcomers.

"An envoy from Jalls Narvikian, Baron of Narvik is here! Send word to the Duke!" He then put his helm back on before turning to Sven; they never saw his face, only his shaggy unkept beard.

"You shall wait here until a response is given." He stated simply to Sven, and then said no more once Sven nodded his assent.

It took nearly an hour for a response to arrive in the form of the gates opening and an archer shouting down from the wall that stretched 30 feet above them; certainly an impressive piece of masonry.

"The Duke wishes to see them in the throne room!" Came the shout.

Throne room? For a Duke? A true Swedish ego this man has! Sven thought. It was true, most counts, dukes, and barons had some room resembling a throne room; but it was not called such, nor was there an actual throne, only a chair at the head of a table. Such an honor of a true throne was reserved for the king of a realm.

The gates opened and a group of three men came out, with another swordsman who whispered to the one who had been keeping watch over the gate. The new guards then took up the posts of the old.

"He says we are to guard you and see you to the throne room without you causing any trouble. Follow me Narvikians." Said the swordsman who was originally with them. He led them through the gates, and his two friends with spears stayed on either side of the party. They were about 10 feet in before somebody bumped into Sven from behind and he stumbled. A strong grip caught him and whispered in his ear.

"I will catch up with you later. Cover me." And then Sven was back on his feet stumbling into the guard to his right. He went a few paces before Jon managed to steady him. As Sven looked around, Torvald was gone, and he was sure the voice had belonged to him.

"Well move along you lads. Are you aways this slow? No wonder this land now belongs to us eh?" The swordsmen said with a throaty chuckle at the end.

Sven kept moving, and motioned for the rest of them to do the same. What was Torvald thinking? What was he doing? So much for cooperation. He thought grimly.

They were in a courtyard, about to condense onto a rather wide walkway high up the mountain where he could only assume the entrance to the inner chambers of the mountain was.

They made it up without incident, and within five minutes they were walking into a space filled room with a long narrow feast table in the middle of it. It law lengthwise in front of them, and they walked its entire length, and then another fifty feet before coming to a raised platform with a trio of thrones on it, one of which was obviously the duke's not only because it was the largest, but because he was sitting on it.

The duke seemed fit enough, but was clearly old with a long graying beard, although plenty of hair on his head, and a weathered hard face, the face of a soldier and a politician rolled into one. He wore royal swedish blue robes lined with fur everywhere, and a jeweled sword leaned against the throne to his left and Sven's right. Once they were standing there, nobody spoke and he just sat there boring into Sven's eyes as if daring him to speak.

"Speak. You came all this way through bad weather to speak, and now you have your chance. Speak, before I cut your tongue out!" He snarled, although not altogether unkindly, merely in the rough way that many Scandinavians were prone to.

"We come with a simple offer. Swear fealty to Jalls Narvikian as his vassal and renounce all allegiance to the King of Sweden, or suffer to see your realm burned before your eyes. I await your response." Sven announced. A twinkle appeared deep in the eyes of the Duke, but he did not laugh as Sven expected, nor get angry as Jon had thought he would.

All the Duke did was raise his left first at a 90 degree angle, and then bring it down in a swift motion. At once curtains on both sides of the room were swept back by invisible ropes and Sven could clearly see the balconies on the second level of the room that had previously been hidden. As he looked, his expression turned to one of horror as he saw the men with crossbows on both sides of the room.

"Oh you Norwegians and your suicide missions. I suppose your father will be upset I killed you, but theres no help for that. More territory for me!" The Duke Bjornfell gave a chuckle just as he brought his fist back up and the first twang of the crossbow sounded. Jon collapsed in a fountain of blood, clutching at his neck that had suddenly exploded.

Anger boiled deep down in Sven's heart as he heard the first twang, and a Yngling lion roared in his chest as he saw the result. Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Four more crossbow bolts, four more dead bodies. With each sound the lion in his chest roared louder and scraped against the insides of his chest, trying to get out. When it found his throat, it succeeded.

His left hand found the hilt of his short sword on his right side and in one swift motion, slid it out and beheaded the man with the spear a few feet in front of him. He then used his right hand to take hold of the spear, set his right foot back, and load up. Half a second later the spear was flying through air, spinning with the perfect technique of a true Nord, and buried itself in the forehead of a crossbowman on the balcony. Sven dropped his harness and was free to fight.

The second spearman tried to level it at him, but in a single bound Sven was inside its range and his short sword cleaved it in two at the same time as when his right hand drew his sword that once belonged to his grandfather. The leader of the guards who had brought them here, the swordsmen, stepped forward and attempted to charge him but Sven was too quick for him; he stepped inside the man's reach and connected his short sword with the other man's blade pushing him off balance. Another step in for Sven, and he thrust his full length hand and a half sword through the chest of the other man, then withdrew it and dropped him, grabbing his shield after dropping his short sword.

He turned around just in time to catch a handful of crossbow bolts on his shield now that their friendlies were dead and out of their way. All his men were dead, and the arm of the young one who couldn't stop with the questions was still twitching. It was a gruesome sight. And it was his fault!

He thrust his shield away from him after another volley of bolts hit him and he guessed the majority of his enemies were reloading. He retrieved his short sword and advanced on the duke who was now standing and holding his own jeweled sword. Then the door they came in through burst open and no less than two dozen men came rushing through, running to save their liege. Some were armed with axes, others with swords or spears, but all were wearing full battle armor like himself.

Where was that man Torvald when you needed hi-

"SVEN! GET YOURSELF OVER HERE OR IM LEAVING!" Torvald yelled, magically appearing in a doorway behind and to the right of the throne.

Sven parried a strike from the duke, kicked him in the kneecap, and then slammed him over the head with the hilt of his sword as he bent over in pain. Sven was out the door with Torvald before the Duke hit the floor.

"Think of the Yngling eh?" He muttered as he caught up with his savior.

"Shut up and help us get out of here." Torvald responded. Sven took the lead down the corridor they were in which was perpendicular to the throne room, and taking a left turn to get out of sight of the doorway. A right, another right into a room.....filled with people.

It appeared to be a barracks and there was easily three dozen guards in various states of readiness, obviously getting ready to go after them, and here they were, presenting themselves on a silver platter. Everybody froze. Torvald and Sven looked at each other while in the doorway.

"Are we not Ynglings?" Torvald growled.

"Is our blood not Narvikian?" Sven challenged.

Naturally, they charged. The men closest to the door were already battle ready, full armor and weapons in hands, but they were caught by surprise nonetheless, both by the mere fact that they were attacked and by the ferocity of the attack. Torvald wielded just his two-handed sword, but he might as well have wielded death in his hands for all the misery it dealt out to his enemies. Two men were slain for every stroke of the blade. Sven wielded his short sword in his left and his hand and a half blade in his right and moved like a gale off the mountain and into the valley, cleaving heads from bodies and splitting open armor like it was paper.

The room was cleared in less than 20 seconds.

There was a door at the other end of the room and they took it. Fresh air!

It just happened to be a door leading to a slope of snow and ice so steep it might as well have been straight down. But the good news; it led just inside the walls to a giant mound of snow and hay. Next to the stables.

"Your not thinking...." Torvald started, but then Sven pushed him down onto the slope from behind.

"Your first Yngling!" Sven said, then took the shield of a nearby soldier and strapped it to his feet so that he might try to skip down on a single ski. Little did he know he just became the world's first snowboarder in Scandinavia.

He landed quite softly and got up to find Torvald fighting off a dozen men at once. He jumped up to help, and between the two of them, they made quick work of the undertrained swedes. Then they raced for the horses.

Torvald took a black stallion bred for the winter. Sven stole a white stallion with two strips of black along its neck. It was the duke's war horse.

"The gates!" Torvald yelled while pointing. They were nearly closed. Sven spurred his horse into a full gallop from the get go and pushed him to the limit.

They made it with not an inch to spare. And they didn't stop galloping until the castle was well out of sight. But one thing was more certain. The mountain pass to Narvik was not traversable without skis.

"I need to get word to my king! Dangerous things are transpiring here in Sweden." Torvald growled angrily when they realized the pass was indeed too bad to be passed by horse.

"Why? Where did you disappear to?" Asked Sven.

"The blacksmith's. Its always a good measure of war readiness. What I saw was stunning. Thousands of weapons, and a frenzy to make more. I could only tell one thing about them for certain: Sweden is preparing for war." Torvald explained.

"Well that explains where all the decent soldiers who conquered these lands from us went I suppose." Sven said.

"Dont foo yourself lad. They took it form women and children and old men and young boys. They have no decent soldiers." Torvald looked away for a moment, then sighed. "Although even I was surprised at how bad their swordsmanship and fighting skills were. Sure, accurate crossbowmen, but close combat? Melee? Forget it. They stand no chance."

"So it looks like we go south to find a way to Oslo then?" Sven asked.

"What do you think lad?" Torvald asked sarcastically.

"Sweden it is then. Hostile territory." Sven muttered under his breath.


------


Kola has now been populated. A northern settlement has been named 'Jalls' in honor of the Baron of Narvik who sponsored the expedition to mine the iron and nickel found near there.

 

[KaiserElectric]

Locate a ship to get home with.
Find more information on what Sweden is up to.

Bolster mining operations to increase the income of minerals.